


Jabberwocky Improvised (The Fake Date)

by komorebirei, mireille (komorebirei)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lukanette, M/M, Multi, Music Nerds, Pining, Slightly Aged-Up (16 and 18), flangst, just fooling around, lukadrien, lukadrienette, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 11:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorebirei/pseuds/komorebirei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorebirei/pseuds/mireille
Summary: Feeling bummed out when Marinette cancels her plans with him, Luka calls up Adrien, who offers to take him out on a date to cheer him up. Commence nerdiness, flirting, and denial. An expansion on the 'fake date' mentioned in Chapter Four of Mikauzoran's Late to the Jabberwocky.





	Jabberwocky Improvised (The Fake Date)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikauzoran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Late to the Jabberwocky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609582) by [Mikauzoran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/pseuds/Mikauzoran). 

> Here's my rendition of the fake date between Luka and Adrien mentioned in [Mikauzoran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/pseuds/Mikauzoran)'s fanfiction, [Late to the Jabberwocky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609582/chapters/48935111). If you haven't read it, go read it! Also, check out the [Springtime in Wonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526303) series to which it belongs. The whole universe is fantastic.
> 
> I tried to keep the tone and characterization true to the Mikauverse. (Mikau, I'm sorry if I butchered anything. ^_^;) This is a fanfic of a fanfic. :D
> 
> See the endnotes for more info about the links included within the text.
> 
> Well... enjoy! Before jumping in, here's the excerpt that I'm expanding on:
> 
> \---
> 
> “…I think…the day Marinette had to cancel on me due to her parents needing extra help at a catering event,” Luka decided, smiling wistfully. “I called you up, super bummed at the hopelessness of the situation with Marinette, so you snuck out and took me on a ‘date’ instead…. I had a lot of fun acting like a pair of total dorks with you, and it made me feel better about things with Marinette. I wish I could get a real date to go half as well as that day with you.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Adrien muttered. “I think our fake date has been my most successful date to date.”
> 
> For a fleeting instant, both boys wondered if perhaps that was a sign.
> 
> \- Late to the Jabberwocky, Chapter Four by Mikauzoran

“… No worries. Your parents need you—I get it. We’ll hang out some other time… be careful, okay?” Luka’s lips were pulled into a smile, hoping the expression would lift his tone, but his insides were sinking. “Take care, Chanson.”

As soon as Marinette hung up, Luka heaved a colossal sigh and stretched himself out on his bed, closing his eyes. He usually didn’t mind spending time alone, but suddenly losing the promise of Marinette’s company that afternoon left him feeling empty.

Seeking emotional comfort, he pulled out his phone and opened up his recent calls, hovering his thumb above Adrien’s name.

_ Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s with his father or Nathalie. He has enough on his plate. You’re supposed to be the comforting one, Luka, not adding to his problems with your own complaints. _

The inner protests dissipated when he thought about how wonderful it would be to see Adrien right now… or even just hear his voice. Maybe Adrien was lonely, too, and would welcome a call. Caving to optimism, he pressed his finger into Adrien’s name and brought the phone to his ear.

“Luka?”

“Hey.”

A pause, then, “Something wrong?”

Luka grimaced at the fact that Adrien could tell something was off even from his one-word response. “Nothing really, Angel.”

“Nothing _ really. _ That means something.”

Luka blew out another sigh. “Marinette cancelled on me… again.”

“Oh, Orpheus.”

The line was silent for a moment, and the lack of positive feedback made Luka regret opening his mouth about Marinette. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to complain… it wasn’t even her fault. I was just hoping to distract myself by talking to you. How’s your day going?” 

“Luka, never apologize for venting to me. I’m always heaping my problems on you, so I am _way_ indebted.” He pointedly ignored Luka’s small-talk question. “I was just checking if I had anything important to do today before making an offer. This means you’re free this afternoon, right?” His tone was hopeful and a little mischievous. 

_ ‘An offer’? _Luka blinked and sat up. “Well… yeah. Why? You want to come over?”

“Even better. Since your date stood you up, why don’t you let _ me _take you out on a date?”

Luka’s breath hitched, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. “You don’t mean that,” he chided.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“A fake date,” Luka offered, hiding his pessimism under a light tone.

“Exactly!”

Luka sighed inwardly, but he couldn’t help but smile at what Adrien was trying to do. “You’re sweet, P5. You don’t have to do that, but you’re welcome to come over if you want.”

“I don’t think you want to reject me, Orpheus,” Adrien tempted with a lilt. “It’ll be fun. You’ll forget all about Marinette.”

When Adrien mentioned her name, Luka realized that in the span of about a minute that their conversation had lasted, he had already forgotten that Marinette had been the initial reason for his call. “All right,” he gave in easily, at once feeling like this was the best and the worst thing to happen to him all summer. “When? Where are we going? Are you even allowed out?”

“Pff. ‘Allowed out.’ Are you kidding? I’m expected to be locked in my room all day—practicing, then working on schoolwork and Chinese. But that’s not a problem. I’ll put on one of my fake practice tracks for a few hours… no one will suspect I’m gone,” Adrien spoke with flippant bravado. “Lunch was at twelve, and no one usually checks on me until dinner. Even then, it’s usually just me and the dinner plate that the wait staff puts out around five-thirty. Nathalie would only know I was gone if she found the plate untouched later.”

Luka’s brow furrowed, as usual not at all happy with this depiction of Adrien’s home life. “‘Fake practice tracks’?” 

“Yup. I have at least fifteen recordings of my actual practice sessions… complete with scales, études, slow practice, and repetitions on the challenging passages… I cycle through them when I need to sneak out.”

“Right. I keep forgetting you have a lot of experience with that. So… should I expect you soon?”

“Yup! If you… _want_ my company, that is.” Adrien backpedaled, sounding tentatively hopeful. 

“Of course,” Luka reassured. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Angel.”

“Okay,” Adrien breathed in audible relief. “See you in a bit, Orpheus.”

—

‘A bit’ meant five minutes flat. Luka had done barely more than get up, change his clothes, and brush his teeth when Chat Noir slipped into his room through one of the open portholes. He immediately detransformed, revealing Adrien with a puckish grin and slightly tousled hair.

Plagg zeroed in on a platter of assorted cheeses Luka had already set out for him, and pounced.

“Come here, you,” Adrien beckoned Luka and swiftly pulled him into a hug.

“Angel,” Luka breathed, heartbeat quickening. He returned the embrace, taking in Adrien’s scent—a subtle, heady fragrance that settled in the back of his nose, mixed with musky notes of skin soaked in summer sun.

“Feeling any better?”

“I was feeling better the moment you picked up the phone.” Luka smiled ruefully.

Adrien beamed. “Just you wait. I’ve got the perfect place picked out for our date.” He winked.

Luka groaned internally. This was a bad idea, but he was absolutely going to let it happen. “So, where are we going, P5?”

“You’ll see,” Adrien sang. “But first, I need your help. I can’t go out in public like this.” He waved his hand up and down, indicating his body. 

“Ahh.” Luka understood. Adrien was very recognizable. He’d be spotted for sure, and if what he had planned for the ‘date’ was at all date-like, they’d be a paparazzi-magnet, and Gabriel would _ not _be happy to see what his son had been up to. “Hold on a moment,” Luka muttered, opening up his closet and rummaging through the clothes. He pulled out a dark grey vest decorated with band patches, a slate-blue hooded tee with a paint splatter pattern, and a pair of slim black distressed jeans ripped in one knee and the opposite thigh.

Adrien snorted when Luka tossed the garments onto the bed. “Let’s hope no one recognizes me, or I’ll be grounded on the basis of that outfit alone.” 

“What’s wrong with the outfit?” Luka teased, knowing Adrien himself didn’t have any qualms with it. “I think you’ll rock it, and most of Paris would probably agree. Agreste Senior will be the only one bemoaning the outfit.”

“You know _ I _ am supportive of your wardrobe, Luc,” Adrien purred, removing his outer navy blue button-down shirt and starting to shuck off his white T-shirt. He must have noticed Luka’s discomfort, because he stopped and prompted, “What?”

Luka gulped. “Nothing. I just—never mind, you can change here if you want. No problem.”

“It’s not like I haven’t changed in front of you before.”

“I know. You’re fine, Angel.” Luka smiled wryly and went back to the closet to distract himself by rummaging for a hat while Adrien finished changing. “—Oh, hey, look what I found.” He emerged from the closet wearing a pair of hipster glasses with bold black frames.

“Are those yours?” Adrien snickered, looking up as he stepped into the ripped jeans. “You actually look pretty cute in them, but it doesn’t strike me as your style.”

Luka reminded himself that Adrien tended to be indulgent with his words and probably meant nothing by calling him ‘cute,’ just like this date they were about to go on was nothing more than a friendly gesture. “Juleka’s,” he explained, taking them off and tossing them on the bed. “I think she bought them online on a whim and hated them… I’ve never seen her actually wear them.” He handed a now-clothed Adrien a blue-and-white pinstriped fedora with a navy band.

“Hmm…” Before putting on the hat, Adrien flipped his bangs to the other side and combed them down with his fingers—to no avail, as the stubborn strands tried to curve back to their former position. “Should I reverse my part?”

Chuckling at the sight, Luka dragged Adrien into the bathroom. “Let me do it.” Adrien perched on the edge of the sink, his back to the mirror; Luka wet his hands and styled Adrien’s hair with the part on the right side instead of the left.

Adrien closed his eyes, giving in to Luka’s pampering, and before long a deep rumble echoed throughout the bathroom.

_ God, I love it when he purrs, _Luka thought as he felt the vibrations through his fingers, tempted to say it out loud but fearing it would make Adrien self-conscious.

“I love that I don’t have to hold back my purr around you,” Adrien murmured as if in a trance, eyes still closed.

Luka let out a laugh. 

“What?”

“You took the thought out of my mind. I was just thinking about how I love it when you purr.”

Adrien smiled peacefully. “I’m just… _ so _ relieved that you know I’m Chat Noir. I feel like I can breathe around you. _ Only _you.”

Luka felt a pang of longing at this admission that he was special to Adrien, and didn’t say anything. Adrien’s hair looked fine already, but Luka ran his fingers through the flaxen strands a few more times, slowly, relishing the way Adrien leaned subtly into his palms like a needy cat. 

“All right, you’re done,” he announced at last. “Hat?”

Adrien donned the hat at a jaunty angle and slipped on the fake glasses to complete the look. “So, what’s the verdict? Do I look like a blond Johnny Depp?”

Luka inspected him. “You’re way prettier than Johnny Depp, Angel. I think we did well here. You look different.”

“Different enough to actually avoid getting recognized?” Adrien mused dubiously. 

“Take a look.” Luka took him by the shoulders to spin him around and look at himself in the mirror.

The boy blinking back at Adrien was… obviously himself, yet unfamiliar in a way. He had never realized what being clothed head to toe in only one brand all his life had done for his residual self-image. New outfit, new person.

Luka leaned forward to perch his chin on Adrien’s shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “If anyone did recognize you, they’d probably do a double take, think ‘Wait, is that Adrien Agreste?’ then decide they’d just been mistaken.” 

“Hmm.” A sparkling smile accompanied Adrien’s pleased glissando. “I think you’re right. What should my name be?”

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

“What if we meet someone, and I have to introduce myself?”

“True.” Luka hummed in thought. The name that came to mind was one he had taken to calling Adrien only in his mind, whenever he felt especially frustrated with his seemingly unwitting flirtations that toed the line between innocent and impish. “Ariel?”

Adrien raised a slender golden brow, but didn’t ask about the name’s origin. “All right. Ariel it is.”

—

“Okay. It’s here. I recognize that statue, and—oh! _ That’s _ the second-hand bookstore I was talking about. Yes! There it is.” Adrien pointed at a door, nestled in between a bistro and the second-hand bookstore in the Latin Quarter, tugging on Luka’s arm he had hooked in his own.

It had taken them a few turns to find it, since Adrien usually traveled Paris either in the back of a car, or taking shortcuts over rooftops, and had no idea how to navigate from the ground level. He had forgotten the name of the shop, so GPS didn’t help much, either. Adrien had finally led them to their destination, following a trail of familiar landmarks and intuition.

“How on earth did you find this place?” Luka peered at the door as they approached. It was robin’s egg blue, with a round brass doorknob in the center, two lutes hand-painted and framed with a flourish of decorative leaves and flowers in a sort of emblem above it. Underneath, in red cursive, were painted the words: _ La Maison des Traditions Musicales. _

“Had to recharge during an akuma fight,” Adrien responded in a low voice. “I bought some cheese from the bistro, but someone was in the bathroom and I couldn’t wait, so I ducked in here hoping to find a private spot. My first thought was that you’d _ love _this place, if you didn’t know about it already… I didn’t have time to look around much, but I put it on my bucket list to come back someday.”

Luka blushed at the fact that Adrien had thought of him at such a pressing moment. He studied Adrien’s face, cheeks slightly tinted pink from their extended walk under the sun and dimpled from the wide grin that he didn’t even try to contain. 

“Thanks for thinking of me, Angel.” A rush of affection swelled in Luka, and he would have wanted nothing more than to kiss the corners of that smile now. Instead, he reached out to cup Adrien’s jaw and slide his thumb across his smooth cheek.

Adrien dipped his head, leaning into the touch, and Luka marveled at how the sunbeams illuminated his golden hair and cast striped shadows against the contours of his face. His eyes caught the light like prisms. “You haven’t even seen what’s inside yet. Are you ready?” 

“Sure… let’s go in.”

Adrien turned the round knob and pushed the door open, gesturing dramatically for Luka to enter first. A hidden bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. The inside revealed the foot of a staircase—narrow, dim, carpeted—and on the ascending walls hung various ancient-looking musical instruments. A hand-drum, a small harp, a lute, a stringed instrument with a curved bow that looked like a medieval violin, a collection of wooden flutes of varying lengths. One of the flutes was carved with Chinese characters. Looking up the steps, Luka recognized an Erhu, a slender Chinese two-stringed bowed instrument.

“Oh, my God, Adrien,” Luka gasped. “This place is amazing. I can already tell.”

“We haven’t even gone in yet,” Adrien grinned. “Come on!” He tugged Luka’s hand up the steps.

At the top, the door was propped open with a chair, upon which sat a djembe, an African hand drum.

“Good evening,” Adrien called out as they stepped over the threshold.

An elderly man looked up from the wooden counter situated to the left of the entrance, nestled in the corner of the cramped room. He seemed to be in the middle of composing, as he was jotting notes on a sheet of blank manuscript paper, but set down his pen when the two boys walked in. “Good evening, gentlemen. May I help you with anything in particular?”

“No, sir, we’d just like to look around and try some of the instruments, if that’s okay.”

The man gestured at the inside of the shop. “You have free reign. Just be careful, and ask me if you need help, Messieurs…?”

“Luka, and—”

“—Ariel." Adrien tossed his head slightly, clearing the golden fringe that had started to dip in front of his eyes in the charming way that the protagonist in a movie would at his debut.

Such a natural. Luka hid his fond smile.

“I’m Isaïe. Welcome to the House of Musical Traditions… enjoy yourselves. I’ll just be here if you need me.”

The boys nodded in thanks and turned in the direction the elderly shop owner had waved.

As Luka laid eyes on the contents of the shop, he gasped in awe, taking in rows upon rows of instruments lined up on shelves from floor to ceiling, both modern orchestral instruments and traditional ones from different countries. Larger instruments like cellos, timpanis, and harps crowded the floor. A walking path only about a meter wide led all the way to the back of the long, narrow shop.

“There’s another room in the back, if you open that door—it’s a bit less crowded. Feel free to take the instruments in there,” Isaïe called after them.

“‘Free reign’? We’re allowed to play _ anything?” _ Luka murmured to Adrien incredulously as they ventured deeper into the shop, perusing the instruments.

“That’s what Monsieur said,” Adrien shrugged with a grin. “You pick an instrument for me, and I’ll pick one for you.”

Luka stopped at the harps, skimming a finger faintly across the strings, just enough to hear the ghost of a chromatic scale swell in the air. “Ever played a harp?”

“It’s like a piano without the hammers… how hard can it be?” Adrien leaned over to pick up a cello, then randomly selected a bow from the nearby shelf. “Okay, I’ve got yours. You know how I feel about low notes.”

“That’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to try playing the cello.”

The boys toted their selections into the back room, which was filled with smaller instruments like accordions, lap dulcimers, small percussions, even Japanese shamisen. The room was significantly less crowded than the main floor, and equipped with stools. 

“Is that a hurdy-gurdy?” Luka pointed at a shelved instrument in disbelief. 

“What in the _ world _is a hurdy-gurdy?”

“That’s the English name for a _[vielle à roue](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurdy-gurdy),” _he gushed. “A stringed instrument from sometime around the tenth century. It’s like a violin, except it’s a rosined wheel that makes the strings vibrate, instead of a haired bow. You turn a crank to make the wheel rotate, and use keys to depress the strings. It sort of sounds like bagpipes. I’ve seen them at folk music festivals, but never actually touched one before.” 

“Well… you can _ play _one today if you want.” Adrien bumped Luka’s shoulder, nudging him toward a stool. “Aren’t you glad you came with me?”

“I never thought I’d regret it, P5.” Luka smiled dotingly at Adrien, loving that he knew _ exactly _ what made Luka happy and wishing this didn’t feel like borrowed time.

Adrien pulled the harp into his lap and dragged his index finger from the top string to the bottom, then back to the top. Four-and-three-quarters octaves rang in the air.

“Where’s F?” Adrien asked, cheeks dimpling mischievously.

“The blue strings.”

Adrien was surprised that Luka actually knew the answer. “How do you know that?”

Luka shrugged. “We had a little lap harp at home before. Not exactly sure what happened to it, which is a shame. It made a pretty sound.” He’d looked for it recently, hoping to teach Marinette basic chords so she could join in their band sessions. The harp would add a unique touch to the music, and it was a challenge to make it sound bad.

“We’ll have to look for it someday.”

“Mmhmm.” Luka was already playing scales and arpeggios on the cello, in-between lines of conversation. “I thought it would be perfect for Marinette.”

Adrien stared at Luka playing the cello. It was by no means of professional quality, but it sounded like music. “... Are you sure you’ve never touched a cello before?”

Luka shrugged. “We have an old violin laying around at home, and I’ve played that. Nothing too complicated, just _fiddling _around.” He winked as Adrien tittered at the pun. “Cello fingerings are more spaced out, but it’s not too drastic of a difference, especially since I’m used to the guitar.” 

“What instrument _ haven’t _you had at home, Orpheus?” 

“Like eighty percent of what’s in this shop. This place is a musical paradise!”

“Thought you’d like it.” Adrien grinned and plucked an arpeggio of ascending thirds on the harp, familiarizing himself with his new instrument. It was relatively intuitive, especially for a piano player. “So, what should we play first?”

“Why don’t we just wing it?”

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “You know I’m no good at improvisation.”

Luka’s eyes brightened, landing on an idea. “Let’s meet halfway, then. This has got to be the _ easiest _ piece to improvise to. Ready?”

Adrien nodded, and Luka drew the bow slowly across the D string. Then A. Then B.

Adrien suspected the melody by the second note, and was certain of it by the third. “[Canon in D](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJRdLZyOU4w),” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “Okay, this I can handle.”

“It’s Pachelbel, actually.”

Adrien cracked up and kicked Luka lightly in the shin. “What’s with you and all the puns today? Should I feel triumphant for rubbing off on you?”

“My triumph, since I got you to laugh,” Luka grinned and looped the same eight-note phrase for the third time. “Join in whenever you’re ready.”

Once he had adjusted the levers to the key of D, Adrien came in with the standard first violin melody. Luka took his entrance as a cue to complicate the melody, inserting grace notes and breaking up the half notes with syncopated rhythms.

Soon, the only resemblance to the original piece was the chord progression, both boys competing to come up with the silliest, most whimsical [variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alcRdeJ5kks) amidst fits of laughter.

“That was fabulous!” Adrien laughed when they finally brought the piece through unspoken agreement to a final cadence. “No one’s ever heard the Canon in D like that before. We should have recorded it and uploaded it to YouTube. It would have gone viral.”

“Your father would have an apoplexy.”

Adrien snorted. “He would… for _ so _many reasons.”

“What a rebellious son you are,” Luka teased. “Wearing torn jeans and improvising… you’re beyond saving. You’ve come over to the dark side.”

“You know what? I’ve decided that improv is fun after all. Scratch coming to live on your houseboat if I ever decide to run away. Let’s be traveling street musicians.” 

Luka chuckled, a little wistfully, and played along. “We could move to [Bremen](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Town_Musicians_of_Bremen) and start a new life.”

Adrien got to his feet, righting the harp and setting it aside. “What do you want to try next? That hurly-whirly thing?”

“Hurdy-gurdy,” Luka corrected, loosening the cello bow and laying the instrument on its side. “Actually? Yes. I was going to pick that Chinese flute, but when else am I going to get to try a _ vielle à roue?” _

“Any time you want, now that you know about this place,” Adrien winked.

“Perfect Fifth…” Luka walked three paces over to Adrien, hooked an arm around his neck, and planted a big, sloppy, kiss on his cheek, extravagant enough not to be mistaken for anything serious. “You’re the best, you know that? You are my _ favorite _person for this.”

Instead of the playfully coy response Luka expected, Adrien’s cheeks colored and he muttered, “I just got lucky stumbling in here, that’s all. It seemed right up your alley… I’m surprised you didn’t already know about it.”

“Every other date I have in the future is going to pale in comparison to this one… even if it is only fake.” Luka nuzzled Adrien’s cheek with his nose. “You’ve spoiled me for dates.”

“Sorry-not-sorry.” Adrien smirked.

Luka patted Adrien’s shoulder and went off to retrieve the vielle à roue from the shelf. It had a boat-like body of varnished wood, intricate colorful ornate flowers painted into the keybox, wheel cover, and tailpiece. The border veneer featured a bold pattern of black and white diagonal stripes, running parallel to a chain of tiny rosebuds inlaying the wooden body. A small crank with a black and white knob emerged from the wide end of the body. “Wow, this is heavier than I expected.”

Adrien rolled a marimba over to his stool and started familiarizing himself with it, tapping the broad wooden tone bars experimentally with the fuzzy mallets. “What key is easiest to play on that?”

“Uh…” Luka turned the wheel, sounding the drones and the open melody strings—all tuned to varying octaves of C and G. He smiled to himself. “Key of C. It’s a perfect fifth. _ Our _ perfect fifth.”

_ “Our _perfect fifth? What do you mean?”

Luka shook his head. “Someday I’ll explain it to you. Your turn to pick the song.” He pressed the keys experimentally, figuring out how to play a scale.

“C makes it easy.” Adrien plunked out a familiar introduction line in octaves: E-E-E, C E G! The [Super Mario theme song](https://youtu.be/3v7QC6Bl_7E).

Chuckling, Luka entered with the harmony, while Adrien continued with the melody line in mellow, lightweight parallel octaves above. The familiar tune sounded exotic with the constant drone of C in the background, Adrien’s melody bouncing on the surface like happy gumdrops. Halfway through, Luka discovered the buzzing bridge and used it to beat out the rhythmic line.

“Well… that was an interesting combination,” Adrien remarked, stopping after two loops. “The _ vielle à roue _ does sound like bagpipes, but that keyboard reminds me of an accordion. Speaking of which…” He rolled the marimba aside and went for an accordion on the shelf behind him. “I’ve always wanted to try one of these.”

“What song do you have in mind?” 

“Your pick this time.”

Luka thought for a moment. “Let’s do something a little more complex—ah! Danse Macabre. You said you used to play it with your friend, so you know it, right?”

He didn’t miss the way Adrien winced in response to this, and the darkness that tainted his features for just a passing moment.

“Sorry. Are you okay?—We don’t have to play it.”

“No, no.” Adrien waved away his concerns. “I’m fine. Sorry. It’s fine… I adore Danse Macabre.”

“You sure?” Luka wasn’t convinced.

_ “Yes _ … let’s play it.”

Luka traded the _ vielle à roue _ for a [hammered dulcimer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ayAvzVdOJJY) propped on a rolling stand. Its trapezoidal body was slanted slightly, stretched across two wooden bridges with pairs of parallel strings. He turned over the mallets in his hands—short, delicate wooden limbs with curving ends that resembled large ear picks. 

Meanwhile, Adrien blinked at the two sets of five rows of unlabeled buttons on either side of the accordion. “Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into? How do I even play this thing?”

Luka sniggered. “Touch, move.”

“This isn’t chess!” 

“Just look up a key map on Google. Ten minutes to figure it out—go!”

Ten minutes later, Adrien had worked out how to at least navigate the key of G minor. He played the opening twelve strokes of [Danse Macabre](https://youtu.be/wBiPCBp1QS4), followed by the violin’s tritones, and Luka joined in with the flutes’ first theme on the hammered dulcimer. The bright, chiming strikes glittered above the accordion’s mellow wheeze.

It wasn’t a perfect, or anywhere-near complete rendition of the piece, but the boys enjoyed passing off the themes in a simplified, half-improvised stuttering imitation.

As the recognizability of the piece petered out, the more-or-less formal music-making devolved into random play.

“I _ love _ this instrument,” Luka uttered, beating out driving, emotional progressions of intervals in [additive meter](https://musicterms.artopium.com/a/Additivemeter.htm), his right hand hammering in threes while his left hand maintained a steady rhythm of two.

“Are you making that up on the spot? Sounds like [Philip Glass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Stu7h7Qup8),” Adrien observed.

“Just fooling around. I could do this for hours…”

“‘Ha... [Hours](https://youtu.be/heu9tD0dzkY),’” Adrien repeated, cackling at Luka’s unintentional pun—a reference to one of the films for which Glass had composed the soundtrack.

“You’re such a dork.”

“You’re such a genius,” Adrien cooed and shot Luka a charming grin.

While the other boy continued to play, Adrien put away all the instruments they had borrowed, then snuck up behind Luka and rested his elbows across his shoulders, laying his chin on top of Luka’s head.

Luka started at this unexpected show of affection, fumbling his rhythm.

Adrien uncrossed his arms and draped them around Luka’s neck, leaning down so they were cheek to cheek. “So, do you like our date so far?”

Luka felt his face warm and set down the mallets. “I love it,” he confessed. _ I love _ you, he thought. _ You’re perfect. Can you just be mine so we can go to places like this, improvise together, be silly, and laugh all day? _The words he said instead sounded stiff in comparison to what his heart was singing: “Thank you for doing this, Adrien.”

“It’s my pleasure, Orpheus. Couldn’t have you feeling down.”

Luka’s ear tickled as Adrien’s cheekbones rose in a smile.

“Hungry?” Adrien asked.

Luka became conscious of his rumbling stomach. “Yeah, actually. But didn’t you eat already?”

“Just a couple bites. It was grilled chicken and I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Okay…” Luka checked his phone. “I don’t really want to leave, but… you want to grab some food?”

“If we dawdle too long, we’ll be late for our reservation.” Adrien winked.

—

“You made reservations without even knowing what kind of restaurant this was?” Luka laughed.

“Well, I knew it was Ethiopian cuisine…” Adrien shrugged, eyeing the small, round table in front of them, covered from edge to edge with what looked like a tablecloth of crȇpe-like, spongy flatbread topped with multiple small piles of different types of stewed vegetables, legumes, and meats. There were no plates or utensils, just a single silver platter to hold the food they were meant to share. “Anyway, it’s not _ bad _ at all, I was just surprised, that’s all! I have absolutely _ nothing _against trying new things. It’ll be a bonding experience.”

Luka snorted. “If I know your food tastes well enough, you’re going to love it, don’t worry… once you get used to eating with your hands. How did you know I liked this restaurant, anyway?”

“Marinette told me.”

Luka froze, feeling a stab at the mention of her name, especially in relation to this restaurant. When he didn’t respond right away, Adrien’s cheeks flushed and he looked down before continuing: “She said you came here together once and you decided it was your new favorite restaurant. I hope I didn’t do wrong by bringing you here. Especially if you’re still feeling raw about her cancelling on you…”

Luka took Adrien’s hand under the table, where they were seated on the floor on plush cushions, and brought it to his knee. “Not at all. I’m really touched that you bothered to find out what I like.”

Adrien cracked a tentative smile and breathed out an “Okay, good. I’m sorry for being an insensitive idiot—I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”

“You’re good, P5.” Luka smiled brightly and squeezed Adrien’s hand, showing the other boy that he was okay. “Want to do the honors of starting?”

Reluctantly taking back his hand, Adrien ripped off a piece of _ injera_—the spongy flatbread—and peered curiously at the piles of stew. “Do you know what these are?”

Luka shrugged. “I just got the standard variety, minus the chicken, plus a tofu wat.” He pointed out the tofu, then singled out one brown heap of stew in particular. _ “That _ one’s lamb, but the rest are lentils and different types of vegetables, so you could start with any of those.”

Adrien went for the lentils, using the piece of _ injera _ scoop up the paste-like stew and bringing the lump of food, cradled in his fingers, to his mouth. “Mmm… that’s really good. Tastes a little like Indian food, but with a different distribution of spices.”

Luka grinned and scooped up some of the lamb. “I knew you’d like it.”

“This place is really nice,” Adrien commented, looking around. “Really… cozy, yet cool.” The restaurant only had a few windows near the front door letting in natural light, and was otherwise dimly lit solely with colorful [Moroccan lamps](https://flic.kr/s/aHsmHWNfJs) that cast warm-hued geometric throw-patterns on the walls and floors. The result was an otherworldly, yet intimate and fun atmosphere.

The tables in the center of the space were all low, round tables of varying circumferences to accommodate different group sizes, surrounded with broad, full-bodied cushions to serve as chairs. Around the perimeter were restaurant-standard booths and high tables with chairs. The boys were situated near a back corner, across from one another at a small table, close enough to almost bump crossed knees. There, the Moroccan lamplight spilled especially prettily—the persimmon-colored orb scattering yellow kaleidoscope-like chiseled shards of light across the contrasting pine-green back wall.

Feeling secure in the dim environment, Adrien had removed the fedora and glasses. Luka admired the way the light glanced off his cheekbones and made the tips of his hair glow, making him look young and as angelic as ever.

The boys ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the food.

“I don’t blame you for dubbing this place your new favorite restaurant,” Adrien declared after a while, licking sauce off his thumb. “This is _ really _good. I never knew Ethiopian food was so delicious. We should come here with Marinette sometime.”

Luka felt another stab as Marinette’s name resurfaced. “Yeah,” he agreed halfheartedly. In fact, the last time he had been here with Marinette, he had been _ so _close to confessing to her. Not that it would have been the first time. He had essentially already done so before, two years ago after his akumatization as Silencer, but she had been so engrossed in her crush on Adrien at the time that she had naturally let it slide without really acknowledging his feelings. For all he knew, she didn’t even realize it was a confession.

Now, they had grown closer, and Luka thought he _ might _have a chance. At least, sometimes he did. But then, something would happen to remind him that Marinette was still head-over-heels for Adrien.

“Then, I’ll go practice what Nino taught me for a while—” Adrien continued, winking and jabbing his thumb at a DJ turntable near the front—“so the two of you can spend some quality time together.” 

Luka’s heart sank from the double blow of Adrien calling attention to his failures with Marinette, and the reminder that Adrien didn’t have feelings for him and didn’t mind the thought of him dating someone. That this was only a _ fake _date. “Yeah,” he repeated, sounding even more dejected.

“Hey—I was kidding.” Adrien touched Luka’s knee with his clean left hand. “I mean, half-kidding. I think you guys would be great together, and Marinette seems to really like you… no reason for you to feel down about her.”

“I know,” Luka sighed. “I mean… sometimes, I feel like there’s something between us, but she still likes that other guy, so… other times, it just feels hopeless. Why would she ever pick me?”

_ “I _would pick you,” Adrien gave him a vote of support.

_ Only in theory, _ Luka thought, and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Angel.”

“Would anyone pick _ me, _ though?” Adrien muttered, barely audible over the sound of the instrumental mood music.

_Ah,_ Luka realized. Adrien had this masochistic habit of bringing up and making light of the things that hurt him. “Angel… you’re jealous,” he diagnosed. Of Luka, or of Marinette, though? That was what he wasn’t sure about. 

Adrien paused, with his hand halfway to his mouth, before his face broke into an ingenuine smile. “Of course not! Why would I be jealous?”

Luka laughed to himself, feeling the thorns pricking his heart melt away as his understanding of the boy in front of him grew. He reached out under the table and rubbed Adrien’s knee, returning the gesture the other boy had given him moments before. _ “I _would pick you too, Perfect Fifth.”

“Not over Marinette.”

“With whom am I on a date right now?”

“Only because she stood you up.”

“Honestly, P5…” Luka let out an ironic, frustrated laugh that could equally have been expressed through tears. “I doubt even a date with Marinette could ever be half as enjoyable as this one. I’m not kidding. I love spending time with you.” 

Adrien blinked at him with a dumbstruck expression that sparked vague hope in Luka.

“... even if it is fake,” Luka slipped in, with the unspoken suggestion that it didn’t _ have _to be fake. It could be real. It could all be real, if only Adrien would meet him halfway. He was almost certain that Adrien wanted to, that he was tempted to at least—but there was enough doubt mixed in to keep him from voicing his thoughts.

They entered a period of silence again as they continued to eat, caught in the void of possibility that prefaced action.

Adrien pointed at the last, soggy little chunk of _ injera _ swimming in a puddle of red lentil stew. “Do you want that?”

“No, go ahead,” Luka waved invitingly.

Adrien chuckled. “You know what that’s called in Japanese?”

“What?”

_ “Enryo no katamari. _ The lump of hesitation. The last bit no one wants to eat.”

Luka laughed, feeling the previous topic of conversation achingly wash away under the gentle shower of playful small talk. “That is _ so _Japanese. Okay, fine. I’ll take it.” He picked it up, only to lean forward, bringing his fingers to Adrien’s mouth.

Shrugging, Adrien opened his mouth indulgently, and Luka placed the morsel inside, shivering as Adrien’s lips closed around his fingertips, licking the sauce from them.

“Well… that was good,” Adrien concluded as he swallowed, cleaning his hands with a wet cloth that had been provided. Luka followed suit, still feeling heated and tingly from Adrien’s lips—the other boy seeming utterly oblivious to what he had done. “Shall we ask for the bill? I’m footing it, of course—don’t you dare try.”

—

An hour later, the boys were back in Luka’s room, Adrien back in designer clothing, combing his hair back into its usual style. “So, what did you think of the date?”

“I told you.” Luka strummed a chord on his guitar, reclining on his bed with his back against the side wall. “This date shot right up to the top of the charts. I should just give up dating, because the bar is set too high now… I’m looking at a lifetime of future disappointments.”

Adrien set down the comb, switched off the bathroom light, and came over to collapse on Luka, half sitting on his lap and pushing him over as he gently wrestled the guitar out of his hands. “Don’t exaggerate. Are you going to teach me something new today?” 

“I thought you had to go.” Luka tried to squirm out from under Adrien, but his left leg remained trapped.

“I do,” Adrien pouted. “At least show me where F is, first.”

Luka snorted and guided Adrien’s finger to the right position. 

“Thanks.” Adrien started plucking out the guitar part from the interlude of [Il Mondo Era Vuoto](https://youtu.be/EpyClpHGwkY) from The Light in the Piazza.

Clearly this F thing had become a sort of inside joke for Adrien. He had no difficulty in finding his way around the fingerboard. 

“Adrien… I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Luka warned. “It’s already five-twenty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adrien groaned, rolling off Luka and handing the guitar back to him. He heaved a sigh and twisted to face Luka, one foot folded under him as he sat on the bed. “For the record, I enjoyed the date, too.”

Luka met his eyes. They were surprisingly vulnerable, without a trace of the joking flirtatiousness that he usually laid on thick when they alluded to their relationship extending beyond friendship.

“So, just for today, in honor of a successful date…” Adrien’s eyelids lowered as he leaned forward slightly.

Adrenaline spiked in Luka’s chest and shot through his stomach in anticipation of what was about to happen. He instinctively put his hand out and touched Adrien’s chest. What was intended to stop the other boy turned into a caress of affection.

Adrien almost let his lips brush against Luka’s on their way to his cheek, making Luka wonder what his first intention was. The chaste kiss lingered for a still moment, and Luka could feel his pulse all the way to his fingertips pressed against Adrien’s collarbone. A slow release of breath from Adrien’s nose tickled his cheek, and it took all of Luka’s willpower not to turn his head an inch to the left and capture those lips passionately with his own.

Adrien drew back—leaving Luka stunned and struggling to keep his composure—and grinned in such a way that was _supposed_ to make it look like the kiss was all part of the joke. Luka knew better.

“Plagg, claws out,” Adrien called breathily. The transformation swept over him, and before Luka could say anything, he exhaled a quick “Bye, Orpheus,” and disappeared through the porthole with a gleam of iridescent green and the whip of his tail following him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what did you think? Did you like it? No? Did they seem in character for the Mikauverse? Did I butcher them? Aaaah! ^^; Did you get the pun about Pachelbel? (I'm such a dork. I'm still cackling about it. I'm probably the only one who finds it funny.)
> 
> Goodness, I didn't expect this to get soooo long. It could have been even longer, but... it was time to put it to an end. XD Also, I'm sorry for totally indulging my music nerdiness. I actually used to frequent a place called the House of Musical Traditions near my university when I was going through a musical crisis and wasn't sure which instrument to focus on. I rented from them a harp, cello, hammered dulcimer, and flute (or maybe I got the flute through some other means? haha) and bought a backpacker guitar. It really was quite a lot like described in this chapter. I think Luka would love it. The restaurant described was also based on a place that I went to in Hokkaido, Japan, combined with an Ethiopian restaurant. It was really cool. (I'm so original, I know. *rolls eyes* I honestly thought they would enjoy themselves in these places! Hope you had fun, boys.)
> 
> Mikau... I'm sorry. XD (Sorry for misusing the nickname "Ariel." My OCD mind felt like they should cover their bases just in case, and it didn't seem right to make up some other random name. I felt like it might be on the top of Luka's mind at such a time.)
> 
> **Disclaimers: **
> 
> 1) I don’t know where Luka’s closet and bathroom are, but there’s one door at the other end of the room (on Juleka’s side), so for the purpose of this one-shot I’m going to assume that’s a bathroom and the closet is one of the wall panels that slides open. Sorry if I’m wrong. ^_^;
> 
> 2) I read that “have an apoplexy” is not the proper usage of the word—and I know it isn’t medically or even grammatically, but people use it that way figuratively, so Luka could have said it. :P I'm sticking to my guns.
> 
> 3) Adrien mentioned that he has to do schoolwork. I don’t know if French students get summer work. Either way I bet Gabriel would have Nathalie assign him schoolwork even when they don’t have class. Or enroll him in summer classes. His education never takes a break.
> 
> **Links:**
> 
> [Hurdy-Gurdy / Vielle à Roue](https://youtu.be/bdEF9WEiO5g) (Since the fic is in English, they really _should_ be calling it a hurdy-gurdy, but I think that name is just so ridiculous for what a cool instrument it is.)  
[Pachelbel's Canon in D](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJRdLZyOU4w) (a contender for the most overplayed classical piece)  
[Canon in D on Hammered Dulcimer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alcRdeJ5kks) (just for fun and so you can see variations on the theme like Adrien and Luka were doing- the same chord progression keeps repeating, but the notes and rhythms change)  
[Super Mario Played on a Marimba](https://youtu.be/3v7QC6Bl_7E)  
[Danse Macabre on the Accordion](https://youtu.be/wBiPCBp1QS4) (This performance is AMAZING, I love it so much)  
[Hammered Dulcimer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ayAvzVdOJJY) (I LOVE this instrument, this was almost going to be The One for me, haha)  
[Additive Meter](https://musicterms.artopium.com/a/Additivemeter.htm)  
[Example of Additive Meter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Stu7h7Qup8) (hear how the right hand plays three notes in the time it takes the left hand to play two)  
[Moroccan Lamps](https://flic.kr/s/aHsmHWNfJs) (this type in particular)  
[The Town Musicians of Bremen](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Town_Musicians_of_Bremen)  
[Il Mondo Era Vuoto](https://youtu.be/EpyClpHGwkY) from [The Light in the Piazza](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Light_in_the_Piazza_\(musical\)) (the guitar interlude starts around 2:00)


End file.
